What did he know of statistical randomness and probability theories, chance mutations and genetic predispositions? He prayed. George Müller prayed. And there was a knock at the door, and there stood a stranger, as if compelled, with a bagful of food. The children would not go hungry that night. Or the night after. Or the night after that.
What did he know of Doppler shifts and multiverses, or, for that matter, the historical-critical method? George Müller prayed. And money arrived in the mail. Never a request spoken aloud. Only to God.
Born in Prussia, in 1805, Müller, trained for orders in the state’s Lutheran church, an easy living, his father the tax collector’s best wish for his son. He became licensed to preach but preferred to sin: a liar, a drinker, a gambler, and thief, Müller knew neither God nor moderation.
One day, age 20, a guest at a small meeting, Müller heard the gospel and fell to his knees, finally converted, his heart strangely warmed.
Now my life became very different, though not so that my sins were all given up at once. My wicked companions were given up; the going to taverns was discontinued; the habitual practice of telling falsehoods was no longer indulged in, but still a few times more I spoke an untruth . . . . I now no longer lived habitually in sin, though I was still often overcome and sometimes even by open sins, though far less frequently than before, and not without sorrow of heart. I read the Scriptures, prayed often, loved the brethren, went to church from right motives and stood on the side of Christ, though laughed at by my fellow students.
He preached in the fields, a veritable Methodist, but yearned for more, a mission, a great call. The London Missionary Society offered Müller just that, but the Lord has his ways. Upon landing in England, Müller took ill. He moved to the countryside for the sake of his health, and it was there that he would pastor. But physical debilitation had taught him to lean heavily on grace, and he soon stopped a common practice, the renting of pews. He cited the Book of James, that warning against favoring the rich. “The renting of pews,” Müller wrote to posterity , “is also a snare to the servant of Christ. Fear of offending those who pay his salary has kept many ministers from preaching the uncompromising Word of God.”
And so he gave up that salary. A box in a corner—”Give if you please”—would prove his support. No in-the-hand gifts, with a wink and a nod. No names, no faces. Coins in a box. That would be enough, George Muller prayed.
He built orphan houses in Bristol, two shillings in his pocket. “When a believer is doing the work that God has called him to do, he may be confident of success in spite of obstacles.” Müller would not plead for contributions or contract debt. He took no subscribers, no patrons, and charged no fees. He would trust God. God would provide. But always through means.
“He has told me to give you some money,” Müller heard not once but often. The subject, that He , the anthropic principle had not yet made redundant. Despite temptations to doubt, George Müller prayed. “A Christian lady brought five sovereigns for us, with these words written on paper: ‘I was hungry and ye gave me meat; I was thirsty and ye gave me drink.’”
What are the odds? Unbidden, the money came: through the mail, through a still small voice driving brothers and sisters in the Lord to a knock on the door. Prayers repeatedly answered, concretely, precisely, not a minute too soon. How do mere superstitions contrive such results, how does natural selection provide for generosity to strangers, when the competition is so thick you stumble over them in the streets?
“When I gave thanks after lunch, I asked Him to give us our daily bread, meaning literally that He would send us bread for the evening. While I was praying there was a knock at the door. A poor sister came in and brought us part of her dinner and five shillings. Later, she also brought us a large loaf of bread.”“I could buy a considerable amount of goods on credit, but the next time we were in need, I would turn to further credit instead of turning to the Lord.”
“The primary object of this ministry is to lead those who are weak in faith to see that there is reality in dealing with God alone .”
“God is now in the tenth year of feeding these orphans, and He has never allowed them to go hungry.”
Bah—accidents! Accidents! Every courtesy shown, every gratuity given, is but one more billowing aftereffect of the Big Bang. A poor pastor need not ask for what his congregation knows he needs. Guilt has been set into motion, and so provision is made. Once, twice, a thousand times over. Cause and effect, as predetermined as toppled dominoes. That such effects appear bidden by prayer—coincidence! coincidence!
But how long before blind faith in coincidence wrecks reason? As opposed to a reasoned faith in Divine Providence?
A master of six languages, taking Scripture alone as his guide, a fool for Christ, Müller never asked a soul for a sou and raised seven million in today’s coin and cared for more than ten thousand children.
What are the odds?
Only an atheist would know.
Happy new year.
